


A Taste of Truth

by Quarra, xantissa



Series: No Wolves Allowed [12]
Category: Castlevania: Lords of Shadow, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Biting, Blood Drinking, Don’t copy to another site, Feels, Fluff, Incest, M/M, relationship building, so much feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 20:01:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18506065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quarra/pseuds/Quarra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xantissa/pseuds/xantissa
Summary: Over the past several months, Alucard had watched his father interact with Geralt. He’d listened to what was said and pieced together information about their family’s past. But Alucard found himself with more questions than answers. Information he had always been told was fact now seemed more and more like a fabrication at best, propaganda to coerce him onto a certain path at worst.So when Alucard comes across Dracula in a quiet moment, a thousand words burn on his tongue. Questions about his mother, about the castle, and all the things that led them to this moment. More important than that were the things he wanted to say about himself and about them together.Too bad he can’t manage to get the words to come out right.





	A Taste of Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Notes from Quarra: This fic takes place sometime after [Fun is a Matter of Perspective](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18195425/chapters/43040978). There isn't any specific fic I'd say you need to read before this to understand what's going on, but it probably helps if you're caught up on everything in the series so far.
> 
> A huge THANK YOU to [Dira Sudis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsudis/pseuds/Dira%20Sudis) for beta reading for us. We are very, very grateful.

Alucard watched from the entryway as the dark-haired incubus poured warm oil onto Dracula’s back. His father was stretched out on his belly on a padded table. He was naked, or at least Alucard suspected he was. There was a thick white towel stretched across his hips, the ends of which just touched the polished, stone floor. His head was pillowed on his arms with the whole breadth of his powerful back exposed. 

The incubus looked like man in his early twenties, all golden skin and pretty muscles. He was working his hands over Dracula’s back, strong and sure as he worked the oil into the skin and muscles. Alucard could smell the intense flowers-and-herbs scent from where he stood. 

He watched as the incubus gathered Dracula’s dark hair off to one side and started to work on the surprisingly long neck. The scent was familiar, though not something he associated with his Father. It took him a moment to realize it was Geralt’s scent. Geralt’s oil, thick and pungent, yet sweet at the same time.

He couldn’t stand watching that pretty boy touching his Father any longer, couldn’t stand watching someone else’s fingers dig into those muscles. Dracula was so easy under that touch, so relaxed, with his head pillowed on his crossed arms and his eyes closed. He was breathing slowly, evenly. Alucard wanted that, wanted that…trust, for himself.

He silently walked up to them, touched the boy’s shoulder, and motioned him away when their eyes caught. The incubus’ dark gaze flickered to Dracula and then back to Alucard before he slowly withdrew. Alucard wondered what Dracula’s subjects thought of him and of the relationship he had with their master.

The boy was quiet when he left; not even a whisper of sound betrayed him. Dracula didn’t seem to notice. His eyes stayed closed and the rhythm of his breathing stayed steady.

Alucard put his hands in the bowl of warm oil, warming them, waiting for the heat to sink deep into his bones before he put them on his Father’s back.

The moment his hands touched the warm, slick skin of Dracula’s back, Dracula tensed and moved, twisting and turning around to see. One of his hands grabbed Alucard’s wrist and held tight.

“Alucard?” There was surprise in Dracula’s voice and something oddly akin to vulnerability in the gaze he locked on Alucard.

“I…” Alucard licked his lips, trying to express what he was feeling, the huge thing that grew in his chest when he looked at Dracula being unguarded. “Let me do this?” he asked in the end, turning his eyes away from the burning red gaze.

His Father watched him wordlessly for a long long moment before he let Alucard’s wrist go. He turned back to the table, folded his arms, and pillowed his head on them. He may have given an outward appearance of relaxation and acceptance, but Alucard could feel under his hands that it wasn’t completely true. There was tension in those powerful muscles stretched over strong bone. He pressed into them, feeling the knots there give reluctantly under his hands.

“How did you know it was me?” Alucard asked, making his way across Dracula’s back slowly. He warmed and kneaded the muscle across the the shoulder blades first, and then moved down the spine.

“I would know your touch anywhere,” Dracula said, his voice low and rough. 

Alucard paused in his massage. The scent of oil was thick in his nose and that nameless thing grew ever stronger in his chest.

“I watched that incubus touch you,” Alucard said. His hands slid down the pale skin of Dracula’s lower back, and he rubbed little circles into the hard bones of Dracula’s hips. “And I didn’t like it,” he admitted quietly.

It was obvious why Dracula didn’t care if the incubus touched him. Such a low powered demon couldn’t possibly do any significant damage to Dracula, not even with its best shot. But as Alucard ran his hands up and down Dracula’s back, he could feel the tension there. There wasn’t a lot, but it was enough that Alucard noticed. It stung that Dracula could be relaxed with a stranger and still carry that tension when Alucard touched him.

So many things were left unsaid between them. Centuries of history and conflict. Those days were in the past, but Alucard could still feel their weight. 

He had grown up as a ward of the church. They were everything for him. They raised him. Groomed him to be a warrior and a weapon. Arranged his marriage and took his son. Everything he’d ever heard about Dracula started and ended with them. After all, who to know more about the evil made flesh than the very society called to fight against it?

But between what he’d seen in the Mirror of Fate and the things that Dracula had mentioned to Geralt, Alucard was starting to see that not all was perhaps as he’d assumed. 

Little things began to add up. 

Like how before Victor Belmont had died, he called Dracula ‘the last Belmont’. Where would he have gotten that information, and what else did he know? Alucard himself was told that Dracula was in reality Gabriel Belmont, the fallen knight of the Brotherhood. But he’d never shared that with anybody and when his son, Simon, came into the castle to kill Dracula, he seemed unaware of who Dracula was to his bloodline. 

Or how there was a second tomb next to his mother’s, high up in a tower of the castle. Unmarked, but no less elaborate. To whom did that belong? 

And the things that Dracula told Geralt. How he hadn’t been bitten and changed into a vampire, but rather he’d drunk the lifeblood of a powerful vampire while Dracula himself was still human. Why would he do such a thing? What possible benefit could he have gotten from this act? And why were the bits of his past that Dracula shared so different from what Alucard was taught about his fallen Father?

“What’s on your mind?” Dracula asked, turning his head enough to watch him with one red eye.

“You,” Alucard said honestly. 

A tiny smirk, there and gone, moved the corner of Dracula’s lips.

“I assume it’s not in the carnal sense?” He shifted, raised himself on his elbows, and turned to face Alucard better. “My towel is still in place.”

Alucard ran his hands down Dracula’s back again, pressing down and out. Buying himself a moment of time to think. God, but he did love touching Dracula. But that wasn’t really what swirled around in his head. Their complicated past mixed in with all the love he felt now. It tied his tongue and made him wish he was better at more than just killing.

At times it felt like walking thin ice. Their relationship was the ice, still new and creaking under its weight, and their turbulent past the murky and dangerous water swirling just under. He wanted what they had right now to last and that made him hesitant about stirring up the past. As they included Geralt into their cautious relationship, it started to dawn on Alucard that he might not be aware of everything, and that perhaps his old anger and disgust at being forcefully turned might have blinded him to some truths. Things he now didn’t know how to ask about.

He flattened his palms against those amazingly sculpted muscles and thought furiously. He struggled to figure out what he was feeling, what he wanted to say or ask, or if he was even ready to hear the answers at all.

“Geralt makes this look so easy,” he grumbled quietly to himself, frustrated at his inability to articulate himself. 

It was astonishing how easily Geralt threw his whole self into his love. In many ways the witcher was quite guarded. He didn’t seem to understand that Alucard and Dracula had made a place for him in their lives outside of sex. But in matters of his heart, his devotion, he was as open and caring as a person could be. He gave and loved so unconditionally that it was breathtaking, and he seemed to expect so little in return. 

Dracula turned more. His body slid under Alucard’s stilled hands until he was on his back looking up at Alucard. There was something of a studied vulnerability in how Dracula positioned himself, chest naked under Alucard’s hands with his chin tilted just slightly up to show his neck. It wasn’t obvious, but his Father was manipulating him. Just a little. Just enough to make him feel like he was the one with power right now. 

He had never noticed this behavior before. Never directed at anybody he could see, anyway. Dracula was a person used to taking, to doing things right away. He was a man far more likely to shake the answers right out of Alucard than to gently manipulate him into sharing his thoughts. Alucard wondered if Dracula always was like that or if this was a new development. So many things had changed since Geralt joined them and shattered the unspoken status quo.

Geralt had once asked Alucard why he held back with his love for Dracula, and Alucard had admitted that he was afraid. Dracula’s passion was a frightening thing. Even now Alucard thought that perhaps Geralt didn’t quite understand the full scope of it. 

It wasn’t just that, though. Given all that they had gone through, all the misery and hate, Alucard wasn’t sure that Dracula would even believe him. They’d killed each other, fought and planned, spread pain and hate. For _centuries_. How could just a few words ever overcome that?

He ran his hands over Dracula’s chest, stuck in thought. After a few passes, he trailed his hands down Dracula’s arm and firmly grabbed his hand. Digging his thumbs into the palm, Alucard massaged it loose. Dracula still had his claws out, but that wasn’t unusual. 

Dracula had told Geralt that he could taste Alucard’s thoughts, his feelings, in his blood when he drank. But that was something they never did outside of sex. What would Dracula see if he drank now?

Alucard raised Dracula’s hand and placed it flush against his neck, right over where his pulse hammered sharply with nerves. His body nearly shivered with how full he was of things he couldn’t name. 

“Would you drink from me, Father?” 

Dracula’s eyes widened and the earlier vulnerability showed again through his surprise. He sat up, let his legs drop from the table, and faced Alucard. As he moved, he curled his fingers around Alucard’s neck, cradling it.

“Always,” Dracula said roughly. “The taste of you is one of the most wondrous things I have ever experienced.” He lifted his other hand and gently pushed Alucard’s hair back over his shoulders. He wasn’t hurrying, and Alucard could see the obvious pleasure he took in those movements.

The tiniest bit of heat rushed to Alucard’s cheeks, and he looked down, suddenly shy. 

“All I need is your permission,” Dracula said, leaning a little closer to Alucard. His voice was low and soft and there was only a bare trace of his customary rumble present. “I do not wish to presume.”

“You have it,” Alucard murmured, shifting closer to his Father. “Drink from me.”

Dracula licked his lips, his eyes focused on Alucard’s own.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered.

The moment Alucard’s eyes fluttered shut, the hand on his neck tilted his jaw up and to the side, baring his throat. Dracula’s other hand slid across his side, reaching under his coat to press against his back, drawing him close to Dracula’s furnace hot skin. There was only the briefest of pauses, a slight intake of breath, and then he felt Dracula’s teeth in his neck, pressing, breaking skin and _taking_.

A needy sigh escaped him as the pleasure of the bite flooded his senses. Dimly he realized that Dracula was holding all of his weight, but that fact was drowned out by the feel of the hot mouth on him, sucking him down. 

Dracula’s bites were always euphoric for Alucard, but this one was particularly powerful. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t already lost in lust; the wave of pleasure that burned through him once those fangs sunk into his flesh was both immediate and unexpected. Perhaps it was his own conditioning. Dracula had never bitten him to cause pain; it was always done in the heat of passion and the goal was always to bring him more pleasure. 

Ever since he was turned, pain changed its meaning for Alucard. Not the pain of injury in battle, but rather the pain a rough lover might bring or an ungentle bite. It twisted and turned inside him, coiling so tightly with pleasure, highlighting it so fiercely, he couldn’t ever get enough of it. This time his Father was careful with him, he could tell. The fangs went in easy and smooth, softly parting flesh and sinking in. One of Dracula’s hands rubbed softly against his hip, and the one on his back was scorching hot. He was enveloped in heat, in pleasure, and in a sense of connection that brought the sting of tears to his eyes. He could feel Dracula pulling knowledge along with blood, could feel him inside his body, inside his mind. A dark, surprisingly warm presence that carefully filled him up. 

As he pulled back, Dracula was as careful as he had been going in. His bite released gently and along with it, the presence Alucard was aware of inside of him left as well. He shuddered, feeling both full of pleasure and abandoned. Empty. He clung to Dracula’s shoulders; his fingers dug into the oil slick skin as he tried to get as close as he could.

Dracula pulled him closer, snaking one arm under Alucard’s leg and hoisting him up onto the table so that Alucard neatly straddled his lap. After the pleasure and loss of the bite, Alucard couldn’t protest. Didn’t want to, either. He just lay limp, his head on his Father’s shoulder.

“Alucard,” Dracula said on a shuddery exhale, pressing his face into Alucard’s neck and holding him close. “I love you,” he said after a moment, seemingly as shaken by the exchange as Alucard. “I never blamed you for your hatred of me.”

The words were a balm on Alucard’s raw heart. He clung tighter to Dracula’s shoulders and gave out a shuddering exhale. “Father,” he whispered. In his voice was all the love, relief, and pain that had built up for so long. 

“I was like you once,” Dracula said roughly. “I was told a certain truth from a particular point of view and I believed it, because there just wasn’t anything else I would need. The Brotherhood was my family, too. I did what they bid me, believing it to be the right thing to do. I could never hold it against you that you believed their story too.”

“Their story?” Alucard asked quietly. “Is there a different version, then?”

“Depends on who you ask, but there were only the two people who knew the whole of it and neither of them shared.”

After a moment of thought, Alucard said, “I could not even count on the ghost of my mother to tell me the truth. There are only shades of meaning. Everyone has their goals. I don’t blame you for expecting the same from me.”

“Your mother was deceived. The wretched Mirror of Fate showed her just bits and pieces, leaving her ever more vulnerable to manipulation. Making her a believer.” Dracula still had his face against Alucard’s neck, just pressing it there, keeping them pressed close. “You never lied to me.”

“What do you mean? Did Mother lie to you?”

Dracula laughed, a bitter and horrible sound. His arms pulled Alucard closer to him, seemingly unwilling to let go.

“She hid your existence from me,” Dracula said slowly. “But that I can forgive. She thought she was protecting you when in reality she was just sending you out to be slaughtered.”

“What is it that you can't forgive then?”

Dracula shifted and pressed his forehead to Alucard’s shoulder where his hair hid his face from view.

“She was the only reason I accepted the mission to hunt down the Lords of Shadow. I was told that mutated creatures of darkness killed her and that each of the Lords had a piece of the God Mask in their possession. A mask that had the power to bring back the dead.” Dracula laughed, long and bitter. “It was my determination to see her avenged that carried me through the pain and suffering of that mission. It was the only reason I was so hellbent on tracking them down.” Another laugh that sounded suspiciously close to a sob. “I never knew it was all a lie. I killed her while under Zobek’s spell. And she knew it. She _knew_. She knew she would die by my hand and she knew what it would lead to.” Dracula fell quiet. “She knew,” he whispered again, voice raw with betrayal.

There wasn’t anything Alucard could say to that. He’d never met his mother when she was alive, but he’d worked with her ghost centuries after her death. She was the one who had helped Alucard ready everything for Dracula’s rise from centuries-long slumber. She helped him travel back and forth between Dracula’s castle and Castlevania City so he could prepare the path that would bring Dracula all of his weapons, all of his powers, and set him to kill both Zobek and Satan. When Alucard had come up with the mad plan, he’d told Dracula everything and gotten his agreement. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d been just as scheming as everyone else in Dracula’s long, bitter life. 

All for the greater good. 

Satan was dead, and Zobek nothing but a bad memory. And still Dracula didn’t have the peace he so desperately wanted.

“I’m sorry, Father,” Alucard whispered softly. “For all of it. The things that happened…We did what we thought we had to. And your rage was a terrifying thing. But I wish things could have been different for us.”

“I couldn’t take the pain, so I let the rage fill me up instead. The void sword was born out of the coldness of my heart and the chaos gauntlets out of my rage.” Dracula fell silent and breathed for a long moment against Alucard’s shoulder. “When you told me your plan, honest and hiding nothing, I was shocked stupid. Out of all the things I expected from our meeting, you being straightforward and honest with me wasn’t even on the list.”

“All I had was the hope that your desire to see your enemies destroyed was great enough that you would cast aside all else in pursuit of it.” Alucard rubbed his cheek against Dracula’s shoulder. “I tried to help. I did everything I could to ease your way.”

“You asked,” Dracula said. “You were the first person to _ask_.”

Alucard shook his head and a bitter huff escaped him. “I asked the same thing that everyone before me did. I am no different.”

“No,” Dracula said fiercely, raising his head and pulling Alucard up to look into his burning eyes.

“No,” he said again, just as fiercely. “No, Alucard. Everybody else lied to me. Zobek pretended to be a friend, a pillar of the Brotherhood. Your mother let me kill her so that I had guilt and pain as motivation to face the insurmountable challenges. Claudia, Pan…even Laura. They all had ulterior motives. They presented their case one way while in reality they wanted something else out of me. They lied and cheated.” The anger and fierceness seemed to dry out as quickly as it came. “You asked exactly for what you wanted, no hidden agendas, no false bottom that would break under my feet just when I thought I reached safe ground.”

The pain in Alucard’s heart was a physical thing. He ached with it, and wondered at the fact that there was no actual wound in his chest. 

“Is it wrong of me to be glad that we have each other now?” Alucard asked. The question was quiet, as soft and fragile as the situation they seemed to be in. He looked deeply into Dracula’s eyes, hoping that his love and his fears would be laid bare under that gaze. “After everything that has happened…I don’t want to change what we have right now. I don’t want us to go back to fighting.” 

Dracula’s eyes became soft and half lidded, and his mouth was a gentle, relaxed line as he watched Alucard spill his heart.

“You have given me one thing that has been lost to me for a thousand years. You returned to me what Marie with her willing death took from me.” Dracula raised his hands to Alucard’s face and pushed his hair back slowly. “You gave me balance. You brought light back into my life, showed me that even while I couldn’t live in the light, I didn’t need to live without it.” His thumbs traced the arch of Alucard’s cheekbones, his fingers gentle and calluses dragging softly over his skin. “I don’t think there’s anything you could ever do to make me see you as an enemy.”

Tears prickled in Alucard’s eyes and his heart pounded in his ears. The love he felt was mixed so thoroughly with relief that it felt like he was awash with it. His whole body filled up to the brim with cool solace, and the last little bit of tension held inside of him fled. He brought a hand up to cradle Dracula’s jaw. 

“I am not as easy with this as Geralt is. He loves so obviously. But I do love you, Father. So very much.”

Dracula closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Alucard’s, and his hand went around to the back of Alucard’s head, keeping him close.

“I burn for you,” Dracula said with that endless hunger in his voice. His power was so thick in the sound of it that Alucard could feel it in his bones. “You keep amazing me. I want to make you happy.”

Pleasure coiled up inside of Alucard’s chest, smug and fierce. He closed his eyes and breathed it in for a moment, soaking in the love and devotion in those words.

“Why did you allow Geralt into our bed?” It was one more thing that puzzled him, especially in light of what was just said. 

Dracula raised his eyebrows at Alucard.

“That first night, when he and Ciri wandered into your castle,” Alucard clarified. “I expected you to kill him, especially after he…” Heat rose up to Alucard’s face again as he remembered how Geralt had so expertly seduced him. “After what happened in the baths. You do not share well.”

“When he came through, I was interested in the guests. It’s not a regular occurrence here,” Dracula said slowly. “He smelled of lust and of darkness tempered with light. That made him even more interesting.” Dracula’s lips twisted down. “And then he put his paws on you.”

Alucard huffed out a half laugh, because well, that was true. But not completely.

“I encouraged him,” he admitted honestly. He might have been hesitant to make a decision, but Geralt was just so intriguing, so attractive Alucard couldn’t quite help himself. Never before had Alucard been pursued with quite such intensity, and with such disregard for the obvious danger.

“It’s why I couldn’t kill him.” Dracula sighed, looking at Alucard with a wry little twist of his lips. “You wanted him.” Dracula’s hands carded through Alucard’s hair, gently massaging his scalp. “I couldn’t bear to deny you anything you wanted, just as I couldn’t bear to let him have you.”

A slow, sweet smile curled across Alucard’s face, and he leaned in to brush a feather light kiss against Dracula’s lips. It was returned just as sweetly, soft and lasting, until Alucard pulled away again. 

“You care for him now, though,” Alucard said, his lips curling into just a hint of a smirk. “You don’t know how to do half measures.”

“He’s vicious, that one,” Dracula said with a wry twist of lips. “He grabbed hold and kept burrowing himself deeper until he broke through my defenses.”

“With sex,” Alucard said doubtfully.

“With his lack of judgement,” Dracula corrected mildly, the corners of his lips pulling up a little more.

“He makes me want to be better. To try for more.” Alucard was hesitant to admit it. He’d always thought that he did his best, being a champion for humanity, fighting back all evils that came his way. But there was more to life than those things, he was discovering. “I once thought all happiness was beyond me. The best I could hope for was success, and then death. You make me want to live. He makes me feel alive.”

Dracula smiled, a soft little thing.

“He makes me want to do better, too. As do you. You are my balance, Alucard. I would do much to see you happy.”

Alucard was well aware of the things Dracula would do to serve his passions. Some part of him feared the level of devotion that Dracula was willing to display for those he loved. His utter hatred of the Brotherhood seemed in equal proportion to how hard he loved. It was both terrifying and wondrous to have it all directed at him.

Alucard wasn’t used to being protected. He always was the one to protect others, to fight and bleed and work for what he wanted. To be the one protected, to be the one who was given things, was still a new and humbling experience.

“Drink from me,” Dracula said, gently nudging Alucard closer. “So that you can see, can feel what I feel for you.”

Alucard licked his lips. He only drank from his Father during sex and on the rare occasions when he was wounded enough that his body wouldn’t be able to handle it on its own. It still felt a little obscene, as if he was a glutton. He clearly didn't need the blood to survive. Whatever demonic power was giving him this undead life was powerful enough to survive without much sustenance. To take in more felt like debauchery, like excess. Everything he was brought up with taught him moderation and that excess was sinful. Yet he was long time past worrying about sin. Or he should be. He wasn’t human any more. Nor was he bound by the same laws as his human self once was.

The lure of parsing through Dracula’s rage to feel, to know, what else might be motivating him, was too much to resist. 

He leaned in and shifted his mass forward so that his weight rested more on his knees and the table than it did on Dracula. It was impossible to stop himself from licking his lips again, from looking over where Dracula lifted his jaw, baring his neck in invitation. Alucard’s hunger was an ever-present thing. It was so ingrained in every moment that it was rarely even worth thinking about. He’d long ago learned to completely block it out. But now he let himself feel it. Embraced the empty gnawing that no amount of wine or bread ever satisfied. 

That hunger rose up, bringing tension and sharpness to everything around him. His teeth sharpened and the scent of Dracula’s skin bloomed in the air. The sound of Dracula’s slow, steady heartbeat drowned out all other noise.

Right before he sank his teeth into that offered flesh, he paused. Just to remind himself that he could. Alucard would never be a slave to his urges, no matter how pleasant or distracting. 

Then he bit down as carefully as he could. Dracula would never notice any excess force. Pain and injury weren’t the same for him as it would be for any other being. But Alucard noticed it, and couldn’t bear to be the cause of more. 

Blood, hot and rich, flooded his mouth. The taste was indescribable. It always was with Dracula. Power and emotion swirled in it, obliterating everything else. 

The rage was ever present, lending a burning hot feeling that scorched Alucard from the inside out. So much of Dracula was made up of spite and rage. It tasted like ashes and darkness, of bitter ice and molten metal. 

Love was there too, but it was the kind of love Alucard couldn't even imagine. It was like a raging storm, howling and rushing, threatening to devastate everything in its path. Protectiveness like fire skimmed down his nerves and as did the ever-present desire. In that moment Dracula felt so much, so fiercely, and so savagely that Alucard was lost in it. 

He and Geralt, both of them were in Dracula’s thoughts. Mixing and mingling, different flavors of emotion connected to every image, each one devastating in its intensity.

Swallow after swallow he drank Dracula’s life into him, let it fill him up. With every suck, he felt stronger. More powerful. Every sense was attuned to the dark life held in his teeth, and his mind and heart drank in that energy. These were the only times in all of his life that Alucard really felt warm, like heat was actually radiating out from inside of him, stolen heat though it was.

Dracula’s heartbeat never fluttered under his hands and the press of his chest. It never weakened or stuttered. Alucard could never kill him with the endless hunger that lived inside of him. So he let himself feed until he couldn’t bear it anymore, until every part of him was sated with that rage and love, that darkness that was both a threat and a comfort at the same time. 

When his euphoria couldn’t go any higher, when every part of his body was boneless with pleasure and satiation, Alucard pulled his teeth out. Carefully. Cautiously. He licked at the last few drops of blood that clung to that quickly healing wound, and mourned how it disappeared so fast. 

“Sometimes,” Dracula said slowly, almost like he was drunk. “I wish Geralt could drink from me too, that I could bring nourishment to the both of you.”

Just the idea of it made Alucard shiver with appreciation. He had to nod in agreement. 

“I imagine him, with his lips to your throat, drinking all that you are, taking it in and feeling what you feel in your moment of ecstasy.” Dracula continued, fingers deep in Alucard’s hair, tugging gently at the messy strands. “I imagine you drinking from him, sucking at his neck, tasting what I taste when I drink from him.”

Another powerful shudder raced through Alucard’s body. He’d thought about it, too. More and more as time went on. Geralt offered himself so freely, but that offer was never a naive one. He was well aware of what Alucard could do, and what a bite like that would entail. 

“I am not sure I can,” Alucard said softly. “He has offered. More than once. He’s not the first one to do so, over the long years. But he is the first one I’ve actually considered.”

The pleasure of feeding was heavy like a blanket on Alucard, and he tried to burrow into Dracula’s warmth. Already that wonderful internal heat that drinking blood gave him was fading, leaving him cold and aching. He tried to get closer to Dracula’s skin, wrapping his arms around and digging a hand into Dracula’s soft hair. 

“Cold,” he complained quietly, face buried into Dracula’s neck. 

When Dracula pulled him closer, the whole castle shifted around them. His lush bed formed all around them between one breath and the next, and Alucard went easily wherever Dracula pulled him. He snuggled into the offered shoulder as silk sheets and heavy furs were pulled around him. His eyes were already sinking down. A warm sense of happiness welled up deep in his chest at the closeness and the easy way Dracula took care of him. There was still that niggling feeling that he meant to ask something more and the image of carved marble flashing before his eyes, but it seemed so insignificant compared to what was happening right now. He let his hand rest on his Father’s naked stomach and felt how it rose and fell with every breath.

“We don’t often do this, outside of sex,” Alucard grumbled. “I want to touch you more.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to,” Dracula said softly back, tugging Alucard closer.

“Didn’t think I was allowed.” 

“You are. I want to touch you always, sex or no sex.”

A happy ache settled in Alucard’s chest, and he nudged his head under Dracula’s chin. “Love you,” he mumbled, the words trailing off. Sleep felt close at hand, and the sheer heat that Dracula’s body was radiating was enough to drive him into slumber faster. 

“I am so grateful for finding you again. For the chance to have this.” Dracula pressed his lips to the top of Alucard’s head. “Thank you for being here.”

Alucard hummed happily, and settled into sleep.

 

The End


End file.
